


Carrier Cravings

by Artemis_Dreamer



Series: Squishy MegOp [13]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Belly Rubs, Cravings, Dessert & Sweets, Drabble, Fat Robots, Fluff, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, Mech Preg, Not Canon Compliant, Post War, Sparklings, Weight Gain, belly stuffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9789392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artemis_Dreamer/pseuds/Artemis_Dreamer
Summary: The warlord smirked with pride at the thought. Optimus Prime was carrying triplets, and they were his. In fourteen short decaorns, he was to become a sire.---In which Optimus is pregnant (sort of), and Megatron is pleased (sort of).





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PepsiGo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PepsiGo/gifts).



> WARNING: This is a work of fetish fiction, involving belly stuffing, unhealthy eating, and weight gain.
> 
> Don't like, don't read.

Optimus Prime was carrying – that is to say, a newspark had formed in his spark chamber, and needed to mature before being transferred to a protoform. Optimus Prime was carrying – and it was triplets. Optimus Prime was carrying triplets – and he was frelling ravenous.

A huge amount of energy was required to sustain even a single newspark, let alone three. And yet, impossible as it may have seemed, Optimus was still managing to over-fuel. 

He had been gaining weight throughout his carrying cycle, and it wasn’t entirely surprising. He was fuelling almost constantly, steadily stuffing his faceplates with cake, cookies, and every flavour of ice cream imaginable. 

His current indulgence was a massive slice of vanilla cake. Humans referred to it as “angel food cake,” and Optimus could certainly see why. It was unbelievably delicious, the rich flavor threatening to overwhelm his taste receptors.

Devouring the last mouthful, the Prime couldn’t help but pout. “Mega-tron…” he whined playfully.

“More?” Megatron’s question was sarcastic but fond, already knowing the answer.

With a smirk, the warlord cut yet another huge slice of cake, setting it on the plate in front of his chubby little Prime. Well, perhaps “little” was no longer technically accurate. Optimus had already matched Megatron’s size, and there were still fourteen decaorns to go in his carrying cycle.

As he dug into this new slice, Optimus could feel a blush rising to his cheekplates. He knew that he needed to restrain himself, or else risk becoming truly enormous. Yes, restraint would be ideal, and possibly even attainable if only he wasn’t so constantly, desperately, overwhelmingly hungry!

“Do you not intend to have any more fuel?” Optimus asked his conjunx, noting with surprise that the warlord was no longer eating.

Megatron chuckled at the bewildered expression on the Prime’s adorably chubby silver faceplates. The warlord had been stuffed full for over half a cycle now, merely relaxing as he savored the sight of his conjunx’s gluttony. There was no way in Pit that he could even hope to keep up - the act of carrying greatly increased the capacity of a mech’s tanks.

“The Lord of the Decepticons has finally been bested. I suggest that you savor your victory, Prime.” The warlord replied with a smirk.

He couldn’t hope to keep up, and it would be a fool’s errand to even try. As much as it irked him, for the time being his frame was inferior to that of his conjunx. 

Megatron carefully suppressed his ire. He wasn’t so petty as to try and demean his Prime’s achievement with competition. In fact, he was largely to blame for said achievement – he had been enabling every moment of this rampant over-fuelling, ensuring that his conjunx had access to an endless supply of decadent desserts. He may or may not have on occasion even stooped to feeding Optimus by servo.

The Prime’s vibrant blush deepened. Prior to his carrying cycle, it had been impossible for him to eat more than his conjunx. Being able to take in so much fuel was beyond embarrassing - it simply wasn’t right. 

His EM field flared with guilt and embarrassment as he abruptly realized just how much he’d eaten, not only over the course of this evening, but throughout his entire carrying cycle so far. 

Sensing the distress in his conjunx’s field, Megatron knew he had no choice but to soothe the Prime. His sire coding was vehement in its insistence that stress was harmful to their newsparks, and that it must be avoided at all costs. 

Pit, even without the influence of the coding, such insecurity from his conjunx would have made his spark ache.

“It’s perfectly normal to require more fuel when carrying.” Megatron reassured his Prime. “It can even be desirable. No doubt it indicates that our sparklings will be powerful and healthy.” 

The warlord smirked with pride at the thought. Optimus Prime was carrying triplets, and they were his. In fourteen short decaorns, he was to become a sire. Such an accomplishment had seemed impossible during the war, and he had long ago resigned himself to a childless existence. Finally, his desire for an heir would be realized.

Optimus groaned with satisfaction around the last mouthful of cake. Much better. There were no words for how torturous his hunger had become while he was carrying, and how much of a relief it was to finally be full.

The Prime slumped in his chair, faceplates easing into a contented smile as his frame relaxed.

Pit, he looked so adorably sated when he was full. Megatron couldn’t believe that he’d never noticed it before, but then again, he was often far too engrossed in his own consumption to notice something as minor as a facial expression – no matter how endearing. There was also the possibility that Prime had never actually been properly full before, but that notion was almost too disturbing to contemplate.

With considerable effort, Megatron rose from his chair, his tanks achingly full from an evening of overindulgence. He moved to stand behind the Prime’s own chair, reaching around to embrace his conjunx. 

Running his servos over the heavy swell of that thick, luxuriously plush chassis, the warlord’s field flared with satisfaction. Cybertronians did not have pregnancies as humans did, but based on the size of Prime’s stomach alone, he may as well have been pregnant with triplets.

“Not long now,” Megatron rumbled, continuing to stroke his conjunx’s chassis but pausing occasionally to pinch and prod at the soft plating. Not that there was much softness left to it at the moment – the Prime’s had eaten enough in one sitting to satisfy five ordinary mechs for an entire orn, and his tanks had been stretched to their absolute limits.

Optimus hummed with contentment, savoring the warlord’s familiar and welcome touch. “Next time, I intend for you to be the one carrying.” 

He meant it as a joke, a wry commentary on how bizarrely taxing the process had been. He felt that his huffed exvent of laughter should have conveyed his humorous intent. The warlord’s response, however, was strangely serious in tone.

“A duty I would bear with pride.” An earnest sentiment, but one that was underscored by a dastardly plot.

Pit, never mind merely surpassing Optimus – a carrying cycle would render Megatron truly enormous. Majestic, even. Majestic and content, seated on the throne of Cybertron alongside his conjunx, surrounded by no fewer than half a dozen of their gorgeous sparklings. 

His lineage would be assured, his legacy would be everlasting, and his frame… his frame would be legendary.

Perhaps he truly was that petty.

**Author's Note:**

> Every tyrant wants an heir (or six) to their legacy, am I right? Even as Protector, we all know that Megs is still a tyrant at spark.
> 
> So, PepsiGo, you wanted squishy pregnant robots? Here you go. Sorry it took so long. TomorrowsHero, I'm currently working on your request, and should have it done soon.
> 
> I'm still taking requests, if anyone has some more for me. All squishy, all the time.
> 
> Any and all feedback is appreciated.


End file.
